NQK
by ArtificialAorta
Summary: Brock has a tough mission and doesn't want to talk about it. Darcy has other plans. (NOW with the correct text posted!)


**Summary** : Brock has a tough mission and doesn't want to talk about it. Darcy has other plans.  
 **Pairing** : Darcy Lewis/ Brock Rumlow  
 **Warnings** : I do not own any of the characters. Except Kraken the Doberman. Also, very, very slightly suggestions of relationship violence, if it can be considered as it.  
 **A/N** : This takes place in the 'Property of SHIELD' universe, a little ways after that fic. It can be read on it's own but I do encourage you to read it if you haven't, as it give a little more background.  
 **A/N2** :I've a number of fics planned for this 'verse, though when I get to them is another story. Still, it took me ages before I was happy with this one but finally I'm happy enough to post it! Enjoy!  
 **Because I can't post properly on fanfic** : So hopefully this is the right fic finally, sorry for the inconvenience guys. I am starting to think this site doesn't want me to post things anymore...

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The excited bark of Kraken woke Darcy up. Groaning and shushing the dog, Darcy reached out to offer calming pats but found the space beside her on the bed was empty. When she opened her eyes, she heard another bark and realized the noise was coming from the front door. For a moment, she thought there was actually something outside she should be worried about but then there was a familiar deep voice urging Kraken to quiet down while also dubbing her a good dog. Smiling, Darcy closed her eyes and half-heartedly tried to untangle herself from her warm duvet cocoon.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she blindly searched for her glasses on the bedside table. Eventually giving up, she looked to the blurry digital clock and through more effort than she wanted to give, saw that it was 1:20 AM. It made her frown. At 7 PM, she'd gotten the text from Brock to let her know he'd landed back in DC and the mission had gone according to plan. Normally, debriefing and tying up any last mission details lasted a couple of hours and so she'd expected him by 10 at the latest if he decided to grab a quick bite to eat with Jack. So, Darcy put on his favorite red lingerie and perfume, then waited in bed. Except Brock never came home and she fell asleep.

It wasn't like she was annoyed. Okay, maybe she was a little annoyed and a tad insecure but she was sure there was a good enough reason as to why he was only getting home now without giving her a heads up. Finally, she pulled herself from out of the duvet and tried to lay across the bed in a come hither manner but it was a little difficult when her eyelids were fighting to shut again. Giving up and putting actual effort into finding her glasses, Darcy put them on and let her eyes focus in the dark. She heard Brock stop at the bathroom. Eventually, heavy footsteps entered the bedroom and Darcy watched Brock's dark figure move through the room, stopping only to shuck off his shirt and pants, leaving them wherever they fell. Kraken wandered around Brock's legs, still excited to have him back. Giving the dog a final pat on the head, Brock ordered her to sleep on her bed and she trotted off, regretfully obeying the order.

Just as Brock crept towards the bed, Darcy reached out and turned on the lamp. His shoulders tensed at the sudden flash of light but his face softened with guilt once he saw Darcy. She felt marginally less annoyed.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. He landed a quick kiss on her lips but when he tried to pull away, Darcy tugged him back for a longer one. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and she wrapped her arms and legs around his body. His mouth tasted faintly of whiskey and he smelled like gunpowder, cigarette smoke and the cheap soap offered in the SHIELD gym shower. Darcy ignored it and continued the kiss, purring happily. Although she was tired, it was quickly wearing off. She loved feeling his muscles under her touch and she _had_ been expecting welcome back sex. When she realized he wasn't responding, Brock's hands grabbed Darcy's waist and pulled her away roughly.

"Sorry babe, not in the mood," dismissed Brock, face hardening.

"Oh," intoned Darcy, trying her best not to pout as a sharp jab of uncertainty shot through her. He only used babe when he was being serious or knew he was in trouble. Normally, he just called her sweetcheeks. Scooting away to her side of the bed, she watched as Brock slid in next to her and pulled the duvet over both of them before turning off the lamp. He made no attempt to reach out for her, choosing instead to lay down on his side, facing away. Darcy couldn't stop the pout this time, playing with the edge of her nightie. The red baby doll nightie had sheer triangle lace cups, a pleated silky skirt and a large ribbon on the front, right under her breasts. Brock had never been able to keep his hands off of her when she wore it.

Except now, apparently.

Swallowing back dread, Darcy wrung her hands and thought about the few days leading up to this mission. Things had been...strained. Mostly on Brock's part and try as she might, Darcy hadn't been able to figure out what she'd done to upset him. He refused to admit that something was different with him so all she could come up with was that he had gotten tired of her. It was well known at this point that STRIKE thought Darcy was a stupid fling that, while Brock was getting too tied up in, would eventually bore their leader like every other woman he'd ever slept with. Darcy told herself it wasn't the case but it had certainly gotten a little harder to believe it lately.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," Brock stated gruffly when it was obvious she wasn't going to lie down and Darcy felt her stomach drop.

"I wanted to," insisted Darcy but that didn't garner much of a reaction from him. Never one to stop talking if it didn't suit her, even with the obvious social cue, Darcy waited a minute before continuing tentatively. "I really missed you."

"Mmhm," Brock hummed but it didn't sound like he was really listening. It stung a little but Darcy kept on, perhaps despite her better judgement. Things couldn't end like this. She wasn't going to let that happen. In her nervousness, Darcy began to ramble.

"I think I did well on my paper; where I had to analyze a public figure based off online media. You know, the one I was worried about before you left."

"Mm."

"You were right. Once I picked a person it was fine. Ended up picking Logan Barkley. The activist I've been telling you about? I think he's gonna do a lot good...he's got a great following and...ideas. More politicians- they're listening..." Darcy explained but she petered off as she felt the hostility radiating from Brock. He also didn't bother humming out an answer. A stone weighed down her stomach. Something felt wrong and Darcy knew she probably should have just rolled over and gone to bed but she kept pushing. They'd never gone to bed with this much bad tension before and she didn't want to start.

"I didn't think you'd be gone for so long tonight. What happened?" asked Darcy gently, curling around him to try and spoon.

"Just go to bed," Brock snarled, first flinching under her touch then elbowing her away and Darcy fell back like she'd been burned. Nausea gripped her stomach, her chest felt like it had been ripped open and her throat was painfully tight. Darcy knew she could be kind of annoying at times but Brock had never shown any indication that she truly pissed him off due to key aspects of her personality. There were times they didn't agree but they always came to a reasonable conclusion and never went to bed mad at each other. She tried to tell herself she was being silly and stupid. Yet the fact clenched at her heart; he didn't _want_ her and she couldn't figure out what she did to deserve that.

"I'll sleep on the couch then," huffed Darcy, anger seeping through as she realised that she really hadn't done anything to warrant his behavior other than actually caring about him. Grabbing her pillow, Darcy stepped off the bed and did her best to made noise. Brock shifted uncomfortably but didn't make any other indication of whether he knew how much he'd hurt her, or even cared. As she stood, she watched Brock's back in the dark room, unsure for a moment whether she was doing the right thing. A part of her said she should really just give him space til the morning. The rest of her and what she had assumed Brock had fallen in love with, told her to just be obnoxious. She went with the latter and turned on the lamp on her bedside table before tugging the duvet off of him. Hell, he'd always said he liked how feisty and carefree she was.

"Are you serious?" groaned Brock, turning around to glare.

"If you're going to be a douche then I really don't want to be around you."

"Fine, then _I'll_ sleep on the couch. Just stop being a kid about this," grunted Brock, sitting up and grabbing his own pillow. A surge of self-righteousness burned through Darcy's veins.

"I'm already up. _I'll_ sleep on the couch," Darcy shot back, gathering the rest of the duvet and succeeding in only making Brock angier, if she judged by the increasing tenseness in his shoulders, neck and face. He stood up and to anyone else, his imposing figure and the rage in his eyes would have put the fear of God into them. It just made Darcy roll her eyes as she jutted out a hip.

"Why can't you do anything anyone ever fucking tells you to?" Brock ground out.

"Do you even know me?" scoffed Darcy, almost laughing at the suggestion.

"Just stay in the goddamn bedroom. You can keep all the blankets you want and I'll sleep on the couch," Brock's voice rose up in volume and anger. With the pillow under his arm, Brock began to walk out but only reached the end of the bed before Darcy stopped him.

"No, I'm sleeping on the couch. It was my idea first!"

"Who cares? I told you to stay in the bed," Brock growled, grabbing Darcy's wrist roughly as she tried to saunter past him. The pillow and duvet fell from her arms. She stopped and didn't struggle as he pulled her towards him. The hold was painful and something foreign flashed in his eyes. Fear held onto Darcy, causing the breath to stick to her throat. As quickly as his rage appeared, it ebbed. The grip on her wrist loosened and he let her hand drop. Darcy took a few steps back, staring up at Brock in hurt confusion as realisation dawned on his features. Despite her attempts to control the situation, Darcy's hands shook slightly and tears pricked at her eyes. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins and somehow it amounted to nothing because she didn't know what to do. They stood staring at each other. One tear fell down her cheek and Darcy wiped at it, cursing that she wasn't stronger.

" _Shit_ ," murmured Brock, voice shaking slightly, horror strewn across his face. In the blink of an eye, he engulfed Darcy in a tight embrace. At first she fought it, some fear still mingling in her tight muscles but his arms felt so warm and unwavering. So she leaned into him, burying her face in his chest and held her breath until her breathing was even. Brock kissed the top of her head and it broke her even more as he begged into her hair. "I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry. Don't cry. Please don't cry. Don't leave me. No, _please forgive me_."

"I just...just wanted to know where you were tonight," Darcy said as steadily as she could. A few more tears fell but she held the rest back.

"I know. I should have just told you. I'm an asshole. I'm sorry," Brock swore, showering her forehead and crown with kisses. "Please forgive me."

Breathing became less laboured and Darcy found herself calming down in Brock's arms, even if he'd been the one to cause the suffering. Darcy moved her arms and wrapped them around Brock's neck and she felt him relax slightly. After a few more beats, she pulled away from Brock and though he let her, he still kept a hand on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Darcy didn't mind the point of contact.

"I forgive you," Darcy said softly and Brock let out a sigh of relief. Exhaustion washed over Darcy but it mingled with worry for Brock. Something had happened to him and it was obviously beginning to destroy him. It wasn't right for him to act like he had but Darcy couldn't entirely blame him until she knew why he did it. Breaking from his touch, Darcy sat back on the bed. Brock watched her in silence as she grabbed both their pillows from where they fell onto the ground and placed them back at against the headboard. The duvet was next and once it lay across the bed, Darcy looked back up to find Brock hadn't moved a muscle. She reached out to him and he took a long few seconds to decide to follow her, stopping only to turn off her lamp. At the first chance, Darcy entwined her limbs with him so he didn't have the ability to change his mind. Brock was on his back and Darcy wrapped an arm around his chest, slid a leg between his and rubbed at his ankle with her big toe. Although Brock wrapped his own arms around her and stroked her hair, his body wasn't entirely relaxed. "Where were you?"

"Went to the gun range after debriefing. Spared with Jack a little then we had a couple of drinks," said Brock tightly. Yet, there was something under his tone that concerned Darcy. She knew there was more he wasn't telling her but even if he was feeling guilty over making her cry, she still had to approach this carefully. Emotional competence did not come that easily to Brock, even if Darcy had been slowly working with him on that. It was pretty easy to figure out when something upset Brock, even if he tried to pull the stupid manly-man stiff upper lip act. The real difficulty was finding out what the source was, though. If he and Jack had been sparring after the mission then it was probably the mission that had him on edge.

"Shitty mission?" tried Darcy and Brock grunted.

"Yeah. NQK."

"I'm sorry," sighed Darcy. For some reason, Brock had to accept a lot more 'no questions kill' orders on his missions. While she knew that sometimes that was the needed call, she'd noticed it had been bothering him more and more. So she forced him to talk about it, giving her what little detail he could. It annoyed him at first but she knew it actually did him good to do something other than bottle up all his feelings, drink to oblivion or just fuck the pain away. And she always rewarded his emotional openness with either intimate sex or delicious food. She wasn't entirely sure if he figured out she was using similar reinforcement training theory they used on Kraken, though he'd yet to complain about it if he had. When Brock didn't show signs of furthering the conversation, Darcy slipped out from his hold and straddled his waist. Reaching out and turning on the lamp on his side, she watched Brock close his eyes as he groaned in frustration.

"I'm not in the mood," Brock insisted and Darcy rolled her eyes.

"Good, because now we're gonna talk," announced Darcy with a sweet smile and Brock groaned again, cursing under his breath.

"I change my mind. Let's have sex."

"Sorry. That ship sailed when you made me cry," scoffed Darcy and beneath her, Brock face twisted into a miserable mix of shame and grief. A sliver of guilt tugged at Darcy and she sighed. She ran her hands up and down his bare chest in an attempt at good will and he forced a small smile. His hands moved under the skirt of her nightie and rested on her hips. Darcy continued in a softer voice. "Why all the NQKs all of a sudden? Is STRIKE getting sloppy?"

"No," frowned Brock, insulted at the insinuation. Which was what Darcy wanted because then he'd be more likely to talk- at least if only to defend himself. "They've sent me and Jack on more solo missions. They're...testing us."

"Testing you? Why?" Darcy quirked her head slightly, wondering what kind of testing SHIELD was doing and if it was what she had to look forward to at the end of her later terms at the Academy. It seemed unfair to just shoot someone down. They should at least stand trial. But if SHIELD was putting down bad guys, it must be all for the greater good. The hands on her hips tightened and a flash of uncertainty crossed Brock's face.

"They're thinking about putting us on security for Pierce. If there's a national or international threat," Brock explained slowly and Darcy wasn't so sure that was the only reason. Didn't Pierce already have some of the best security? Then again, Darcy was certain Brock and Jack were still better.

"That's...good, right? Moving up the ladder?"

"Yeah but, I-," Brock sighed and stared up at Darcy with regret. It tug at Darcy's heart and she leaned down to give him a soft kiss. She tried to make it as loving and supportive as she could, to remind him that he could tell her anything. As she pulled away, Brock let out a slow breath through his nostrils. Swallowing past a lump in his throat, closed his eyes as if he were trying to calm himself. A series of expressions captured his face but each was more confusing than the last to Darcy. His hands began to slide up and down her hips and thighs. Opening his eyes, he looked up at Darcy with a grimace. "I just prefer working in a team."

"You're not being pulled completely out of STRIKE, though?"

"No but sometimes I worry that what we're doing isn't…" Brock broke off and took a moment to contemplate his next words. "There's just a lot of grey area. Safety comes at a price. It's not all black and white."

"I _know_. Political science major here," reminded Darcy with the roll of her eyes, a tad annoyed at his condescension. He was pretty good at keeping the patronizing tone to a minimum because he knew how much she'd had to deal with it on a daily basis. When his hand reached up to caress the side of her neck, Darcy turned her attention back to him and saw the roiling of guilt and uncertainty in his eyes. She'd come to know that look in the past few months. He had it more than she liked, try as she might to wash it from his face every time. This wasn't about teaching her the facts of life. It was coming to terms with his actions.

"If you knew half the shit I've had to do, the shit I can't tell you about, you'd run the other way and never look back," claimed Brock, swallowing past a lump in his throat. There was so much conviction behind the statement that Darcy was thrown back. The grip on her neck tightened, not painfully but it was like he was trying to keep her there in case she decided to run at just that moment. Gently taking his hand in hers, Darcy kissed his knuckles before clutching it to her chest.

"I love you," Darcy assured Brock but his jaw clenched.

"You'd run from me if you knew…I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I'd go crazy. I can't let you go. I _won't_ ," growled Brock, voice breaking. It was almost as if he was trying to convince someone else of this. His hand clenched into a fist and Darcy cut him off before he had the chance to continue to doubt her even further.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone," Darcy swore adamantly. As much as Brock wanted to believe it, there was still doubt in his eyes and he turned his head away. Grabbing his head in her hands, Darcy forced him to look at her. "I _love_ you, okay? More than I will ever love anyone...and I know everyone says I'm being stupid and young and I don't know what I'm talking about but I know what I feel. I know you've done some shitty things and I only know like, a fraction of the details but it doesn't matter to me. I love every bit of you: black, white and grey. There isn't a chance in hell I'd ever run from you. I promise."

"Everything I do now, has been to protect you," Brock swore, desperate to try and make her understand.

"And I know you'd never hurt me. That's why I'm not worried about whatever it is you think you've done that would scare me off. Whatever it is you have to do sometimes, it's because you're making the world a better place" shrugged Darcy, running her fingers across his rough stubble and down his pecks. The guilt had finally waned from his eyes and he watched her with warmth. "And in a couple years when I graduate, I'll be doing the same except, less with the shooty-shooty and more with the super sexy analysis. So, maybe you'll have to comfort me then or we'll just comfort each other at the same time but we'll figure that out when we get there. Also we'll probably have to get a lot better at it. Til then I'm gonna keep making you talk about it because we promised to be honest. Besides, I hate it when you're upset."

"I kind of regret that honesty promise," Brock grumbled. In response, Darcy leaned down and kissed him. Not satisfied with a chaste peck, she deepened the kiss until his fingers dug into her thighs and he moaned into her mouth.

"But you feel better, right?" asked Darcy, breaking apart and sitting tall, heat coursing through her body and shivers running down her spine as she watched Brock lick his lips. It took a moment before Brock actually answered her. His eyes took her in but he still looked far away as he appeared to be making an important decision, yet Darcy wasn't sure what it was over.

"Yes," smiled Brock, eyes focusing again and a new determination setting in his face. "As much as I hate your need to talk about everything, I guess I can see some of the value."

"See? Talking is good. It gets your man feelings out. Those can rot your insides if you let them sit too long. Look at Jack."

"I'll let him know you said that," Brock chuckled, pulling Darcy back down for another kiss with a hum. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Well you've obviously been racking up the good karma points. Like majorly. I mean, I'm pretty awesome. So you can't be doing all bad on those missions," bragged Darcy, wiggling slightly, trying to get a specific reaction from Brock and he gripped her ass to still her.

"You are awesome. You're also not wearing underwear," stated Brock, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," smirked Darcy, letting her fingers run down his chest lightly. She continued seductively. "Wanna do something about it?"

"Fuck, I love you," Brock breathed and Darcy let out a sweet giggle as a tingle ran down her spine at the words. Setting one hand on her thigh and the other on her ass, Brock grinned when he watched Darcy blush. His next words made her pout though. "Also I'm sorry. I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't in the mood. Don't give me that look, you little nympho. I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

"What look?" Darcy feigned innocence but she realised Brock really was tired. Exhaustion crept into his muscles and she could feel it beneath her thighs and hands. Crawling off of him, she scooted back under the pillows. "It's fine. Is there anything I can do though? I mean, anything other than sex?"

"Can I...just hold you tonight?" asked Brock, restraint in his voice indicating he was ready for her to make a joke at the needy request. Instead, Darcy's insides fluttered.

"Of course," assured Darcy, taking off her glasses and setting them down on her bedside table. As she made herself comfortable against Brock's side, he turned off the lamp. Although Darcy attempted to entwine herself with him, the plan backfired when Brock turned her on her side and gathered her into his arms so he could spoon her. The position wasn't any less satisfying though. Letting out a sigh, Darcy snuggled backwards into Brock and enjoyed the safety of his arms as he buried his face in her hair. She'd gotten him to talk, which was always a victory in itself but Darcy couldn't shake the feeling something still swam under the surface, waiting to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune moment. A deep inhalation from Brock brought Darcy out of her thoughts and he held her just a fraction tighter.

"I love you," Brock mumbled and Darcy's heart skipped a beat. Hoping her feelings were just her brain running away from her, Darcy expelled them from her mind and forced herself to relax.

"I love you too," Darcy said. Together, they fell into a deep sleep, no longer fretting over regretted words or what may come.


End file.
